


And I Wait for a Day I'll Never See

by simonsaysfunction



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 10:43:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3607200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simonsaysfunction/pseuds/simonsaysfunction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tondc is burning and Lexa can't find Clarke. An interlude set between the bombing of Tondc and when Clarke is found.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I Wait for a Day I'll Never See

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by caelzorah.

The smell was the first thing Lexa noticed, coming to. Ash and thick smoke, the underlying stench of burned corpses – burning corpses – unwilling to be hidden, refusing to be covered, clogging her lungs. The ringing in her ears couldn’t block out the sounds of people, her people, crying out in agony. Her eyes stung; her throat burned. She grabbed at a low branch for leverage and staggered to her feet, letting the rough scratch of the bark against her skin help to cut through the haze. 

She was alive. A number of her people were not. She looked towards the village she had condemned to death to save the many. There would be vengeance: every drop of _maunon_ blood splattered to the earth.

“ _Yu gonplei ste odon_.” 

It was the only moment she allowed herself to grieve. The living needed to be led – a war remained to be won. There was no time for mourning when their enemies still sat within their mountain. She needed to plan the assault while the Mountain Men thought they had succeeded. She would relish the look of surprise they gave her before she took their lives.

However, the first thoughts that came to her once she had gotten her bearings were not a plan – they were not even the thoughts of Heda Lexa. They were the thoughts of a soft heart she had thought dead alongside its keeper:

Where was Clarke? 

The last time Lexa had seen Clarke – moments before the explosion – she had been running back into the village. At the thought that Clarke might not have made it out – that she could be alone and wounded, that she could be dead – the Commander felt her chest tighten.

Lexa tore through the underbrush towards where Clarke had disappeared, careful to keep the cloth around her head in place, obscuring her face in fabric and shadow. Words stuck in her throat in spite of her urgency, halted by her need for silence. If she could just find a trace – anything, _something_ beyond dark and empty forest.

It hit her as she dodged through the woods in the dark: the feelings she had pretended not to have; the emotions she absolutely could not entertain, did not want, and did not have time for.

It worried her – _terrified_ her – that she was abandoning all pretense of being heartless in a mad rush to find the one person she was absolutely not allowed to fall for. Heda Lexa was not allowed to fall for anyone, but particularly not Clarke kom Skaikru. Loving anyone was weakness; loving Clarke was madness.

But it was love, and it took the prospect of losing Clarke to bring that fact into the open. Lexa had kept it from her mind, pretended that anything she felt was fascination, or attraction, or frustrated confusion and nothing more. But the truth was this: she loved Clarke fiercely, with agonized devotion – regardless of can not or will not or should not. Clarke had worked her way into her heart the same way she had into an alliance with the Grounders: with words tempered in iron, hidden behind soft features and haunted eyes.

They were leaders; fate had handed them the mantle and deemed them worthy to do great things. Lexa had united the twelve clans; Clarke had led her people to the ground. Lexa would lead them to victory against the mountain – Clarke would facilitate it, and ignite Lexa’s very soul.

The force Clarke exerted over her was as natural as the need to breathe and as undeniable as thirst. She commanded this power with gentle ease, despite that her obliviousness to having Lexa under her spell. But Lexa could not – _could not_ – further entertain the thought.

After this war was done and they had mourned their dead – then _she could give herself a moment to reflect, to breathe. Loving Clarke had not been the plan, but it was her reality, and perhaps if fate were kind…_

But those thoughts were useless. Those thoughts had weakened her enough to have gotten Costia killed. She would not allow another she loved to be snatched away due to a soft heart. To suffer a life of distance would be a better end than to be the reason Clarke lost her life – the future was too dark to go on without her light.

The fiery remains of Tondc grew dimmer as she continued her search, her pace slowing as the shadows swallowed her. Lexa allowed the smallest glimmer of hope that she had yet to stumble upon her quarry’s corpse. The wails of the dying had faded, leaving the forest quiet, until she heard shuffled footsteps upon the ground.

She emerged from the trees to find Clarke wandering, aimless, struck numb by the blast or by guilt or both. Lexa’s heart hammered in her chest and relief filled her senses. She had found her. She was alive. Fury replaced the fear. How could Clarke have done something so irresponsible?

“Clarke.” Lexa called, striding up behind her. Clarke didn’t seem to hear in her daze. Lexa repeated herself, preparing for another of her lessons in command. Finally, Lexa grabbed Clarke’s shoulder, turning her around. “Clarke.”

Every thought of rage fled at the look in Clarke’s eyes.


End file.
